move


Halfway.

She's halfway there.

Kate sits cross-legged in the bed, the sheets billowing out around her. A lake of silk she can luxuriate in. The cap on the bottle of cocoa butter sticks a little and she catches her nail, bending it back hard enough to make her hiss through her teeth.

She squeezes some of the lotion out, rubbing it between her palms to warm it and then resting her hands against her middle. Her tank top is tucked up underneath her breasts to expose the swell of her stomach, her skin smooth and pale.

It still surprises her, every time she catches sight of her reflection. That's their baby. Their son.

Castle had wanted to know. So he could plan, buy all these outfits and make sure the nursery is perfect. And she hadn't minded. She sort of likes knowing. Likes being able to think of the baby as their little boy.

The cocoa butter glides on easily, soaking through and protecting her from stretch marks. So far. She's not vain, not when it comes to this. She'll happily bear the marks as proof of how she kept her son safe for forty weeks. But if there's something she can do to prevent it, she might as well try.

A part of her does worry. That once she delivers their boy she'll be a leaking, exhausted mess, and Castle won't-

Well. . .that Castle won't react the way he usually does when he sees her naked.

Stupid. She knows that. But it's still there, nestled at the base of her spine and crawling up the ladder of her vertebrae to choke her every time he starts to touch her and then pulls back.

Kate spans her hand over her stomach, feels the fluttering of the baby's movement inside. And then a push against her palm that knocks the breath right out of her, a grin already cracking wide.

"Castle," she calls out. "Rick, come here."

He appears around the door, the set of his shoulders heavy as he hurries towards her. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong. Come here." Kate stretches out a hand to him, using the knot of their fingers to reel him in to the bed.

He kneels in front of her, pressing a tender kiss to her mouth and then sitting back on his feet, hesitant.

"What's going on?"

"Here. Feel." Kate wraps her fingers around his wrist, feels the thud of his pulse against her heartline as she draws his hand in.

He lets her, until he sees what she's trying to do and then he's faltering, his fingers curling into a fist. "Kate-"

"Castle? What's the matter?"

She swallows back the hurt, the thick and cloying weight of fear in her gut. He wants this baby. He does. She's seen how excited he gets over all the paraphernalia, watched him pore over the book of names he picked up the day after she told him.

So why won't he touch her?

"It's nothing."

She raises an eyebrow, waits him out. By know he's conceded to the fact that she's always going to find out whatever it is he's trying to hide, so all it takes is a look from her to get him to spill.

"When Meredith was pregnant with Alexis, she never let me touch her. The entire time. She'd shove me away if I so much as held her hand. Let alone try to touch her stomach."

He lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug, his eyes fixed firmly on the sheets, and her heart pounds against her ribs. Oh, Castle.

Sometimes it hurts, that he's done all of this before. But apparently, he hasn't. Not really. She wants to share every moment with him, wants him here for all of it.

Kate lifts onto her knees and shifts towards him, wrapping both arms around his shoulders to draw him in to her chest. She cradles him there, smiling into his hair as his hands fall to rest at her spine.

"Castle, I'm not Meredith. I want you to share this with me. I want you to be here, holding my hand all the way through."

He nods, sitting back and arching his neck to kiss her deep. And then he sets his palm against her stomach, breathing his gasp into her mouth at the soft dusting of movement they can both feel now.

"Is that-"

"Our son." She beams at him, her eyes filling. Ridiculous.

She's just so very happy.

"Our son." He echoes, his voice rich and reverent. In awe of the life they created.

Kate sits back against the headboard, her husband coming in to rest against her side, his palm still warm against her abdomen. "So, I've been thinking about his name. I want it to mean something, you know?"

"Yeah. Me too." He nudges his smile into her cheek, kissing her carefully, but with the burn of need and love she's so missed. "I actually had some ideas."

She hums into the crease of his neck, pressing her tongue there to taste musk and night and him. "Yeah?"

"Jackson. After my dad. I know that's most likely not even his real name. But I want our son to have some sort of connection to his heritage."

The tension ripples all along his side and Kate turns over, the swell of her stomach resting at the plane of his. "I like it. It's a good name. We could call him Jack for short."

"Jack. Yeah. Are we gonna give him a middle name?"

Kate sucks in a breath, lets it curl in wisps right down inside before she speaks. "I want it to be Roy. For Montgomery, and for Royce."

Castle touches his mouth to her forehead, his palm coming up to cradle the curve of her skull. The rising fortress of his body is a comfort she didn't know she was missing until he came back to her.

"Jackson Roy Castle. It's perfect."